


Smith Street is the next one down, sorry

by transient_transit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transient_transit/pseuds/transient_transit
Summary: Jisoo is the one who forgives, and Jeonghan is the one who forgets.





	Smith Street is the next one down, sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sick of staring at this tbh so I'm just gonna post it I've edited it too many times  
> Thanks to chop and also ginganinja for dealing w my ass and cloud is encouraging as always also
> 
> i am the regret

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. 

The sign said "Next right for Smith Street", so in the next split second Jeonghan decides to lean right and steers the Pizza Shack motorcycle straight onto the bumpy path, trying not to think about the path ending suddenly and dumping him into the river or accidentally driving in on the middle of something he shouldn't have seen. The path isn't really that long though, just weirdly dark for the sun being right overhead and heating the black plastic under Jeonghan's hands to an uncomfortably warm temperature. 

It ends at a house. An old, rather large, brown wooden house. 

There's a person soft white knitted jumper squatting next to a patch of wilting tomatoes with a watering can in his hands as Jeonghan drives in on his motorcycle, feeling a little stupid because this doesn't look like the right place at all. 

"I don't suppose this is Smith Street?" he asks, taking off his helmet to air it out and fanning himself with his hand. 

The person smiles apologetically. "No, sorry. You're wanting the street after this." 

Jeonghan sighs. "I knew it. The sign said next right but I saw the trail and there've been streets that are just dirt but actual streets so I thought I'd check. Anyway, sorry for bothering you." 

"No problem. You look like you've had a worse day of it than me." 

"Yeah, it's hot and I'm wearing black because-" 

"They never sell bike gear in other colours," the person finishes, grinning. 

Jeonghan grins back. "Exactly." 

"Would you like to come in for some tea, then? Just to cool down." Jeonghan stops backing out his bike to stare incredulously at him. 

"Who offers people tea, these days?"

"I do, I guess," says the person, sheepishly.

Jeonghan laughs and pushes his damp hair away from his face. "Sounds good." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The person's name is Jisoo, and he makes the best tea. 

The inside of Jisoo's house is incredibly homely, all dark woods and aged furniture and heavy solid doors. Jeonghan is offered a seat at his ancient knotted dining table and is on his first, second, then third cup of tea in what seems like no time at all. Jisoo tells him it's Earl Grey, and offers him sandwiches too, which Jeonghan accepts with possibly too much gusto for eating a stranger's food in a stranger's house. 

The sandwiches turn out to be just as good as the tea. 

"These are so good, oh my god," says Jeonghan around the last bite of his sandwich, "They have the most perfect ratio of meat to lettuce to whatever else you've put in here. I'd sell my soul for the ability to make these things." 

"I take bank transfers," laughs Jisoo, then, hurriedly, "Nah, I'm kidding, you don't have to give me anything back," when Jeonghan purses his lips thoughtfully, "it's fine, really. The company was more than enough." 

"Sure, but do you like pizza? I can get you some if you want, our manager usually gives us the leftovers, so it's no problem." 

"Oh, please don't trouble yourself." 

"Oh no, it'd be my pleasure. The least I could do."

"You flatter me too much, Jeonghan." There's something weird in the way that Jisoo says it that makes Jeonghan briefly contemplate the possibility of Jisoo being a cliché murderer living in the woods, creepy garden of bodies and all, but when Jeonghan looks at him he only looks sort of sad and wistful. 

Then Jisoo sees Jeonghan looking and smiles at him, as if to make him forget that he'd ever seen Jisoo looking anything other than perfectly happy. With a small pang, Jeonghan wonders what happened to him that made him smile to cover up instead of voice what was on his mind. 

"I'll definitely bring you a pizza tonight. Three pizzas, even." 

"Thanks," says Jisoo, wryly, "I appreciate the thought. I don't mean to chase you out, but don't you need to be going now?" 

Jeonghan's about to tell him it's not just a thought, but then he looks at the clock on Jisoo's mantelpiece and realises it's been twenty minutes since he left the shop. His boss is going to kill him. 

Jeonghan stands and tips the last of his tea down his throat, waves to Jisoo (who sees him out like the incredibly nice person he is) and drives back down the trail. It feels like ages from when he first turned into Jisoo's, but the pizza's still warm when he delivers it and his boss doesn't say anything so Jeonghan figures it's all fine. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Why'd you bring home six pizzas?" 

"What do you mean, we always get one each."

"One each isn't six, Jeonghan, it's three, sheesh, learn to cou- did you buy tea?" 

"Yeah." 

"We have a bunch of tea in the cupboard already, why'd you do that?" 

"I... just felt like it, okay?" 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. 

The sign said "Next right for Smith Street", but in the next split second Jeonghan decides not to lean right and instead keeps steering the Pizza Shack motorcycle straight, trying not to think about the possibility of that having been the right turn and having to double back later. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

(Jeonghan looks in the cupboard later. His brother is right; there's a few different teas in the cupboard, all almost but not quite past the expiry date. 

There's no Earl Grey though, and he tells his brother this because Jeonghan's decided that that one's his favourite.) 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

There's been a weird periodic clicking noise since he set out on this delivery and Jeonghan really, really hopes that whatever it is can wait until he gets back to the store. The clicking, however, becomes a deep rattling once he turns onto a long, rugged trail and hits a bump. 

Cursing, Jeonghan pulls up near the house and gets off the bike to have a look. He doesn't really know much about motorcycles, hopes a quick onceover will determine the problem, but no matter how hard he stares at the bike and taps stuff, the problem doesn't seem to want to reveal itself. 

Or maybe it has, but Jeonghan's just too shitty of a mechanic to see what's wrong. 

It's then that someone walks out from behind the house and offers to have a look, to his relief. 

"This isn't Smith Street, is it?" asks Jeonghan conversationally as the stranger pushes up the white sleeves of his knitted jumper and knocks on a panel with the heel of his hand, frowning, "I turned into it anyway because I didn't want to backtrack with the bike like this, but that would've been the smarter decision, I guess." 

"This isn't Smith Street, no," answers the stranger absently, "you want further up the road. Hmm. I'll just be a sec." 

He disappears into his white garage (Jeonghan's only starting to notice that literally everything the stranger owns is a shade of premium white and probably a nightmare to clean) for a few moments, and returns with a spanner which he uses to systematically remove a panel from the motorbike and fish out a bolt. 

"Ah. The hole here is a little distorted, so the bolt starts to undo itself when you bump it too much. Hold on, I'll put it back for you." 

"Thanks," says Jeonghan gratefully, "you saved me. I would've never been able to tell what was wrong in a million years, let alone fix it. I'd probably have died or something if you hadn't come along." 

"No problem. I used to own one of these, I know what they're like." 

"Used to?" 

"Mmmhm. Left it behind when I moved," says the stranger. 

"Do you miss it?" asks Jeonghan, curiously, watching him tighten the last bolt. 

"Maybe," he says, shrugging. He pats the panel. "It shouldn't make any weird noises now. I'm Jisoo, by the way." 

"Jeonghan." They shake hands.

"Thanks again for saving my ass." 

"Don't worry about it. You might want to wait until the engine cools a little before you leave, though," says Jisoo, "It's a little overheated right now and might make the problem worse. How about you come in for a little bit? I have food." 

"Food?" 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jisoo takes him into the clean, white-tiled kitchen, and makes him the most delicious sandwiches he's ever put in his mouth. They have this weird sort of familiar taste that makes Jeonghan feel like he's eaten them before, maybe when he was younger or something. It's just a really old, faraway distant sort of memory that itches at the corner of his mind. Jeonghan forgets about this pretty quickly, though, because all of Jisoo's food belongs on a table for the gods. All of it is perfect and delicious and scrumptious, and Jeonghan's joke about making Jisoo teach him quickly turns into a real lesson. Jeonghan makes absolutely sure to burn the recipe into his brain. 

Jisoo brings out tea for him, too, and it's just as heavenly. 

("Oh hey! I have this at home!" 

"Oh yeah?" 

"It's English Breakfast, right? I found some in the back of the cupboard at home. I mostly drink Earl Grey, though." 

"...oh, that. Yeah, I like that tea too.") 

Then Jisoo shows him his big beautiful tomato patch, and gives Jeonghan some to take home with him in a plastic bag with a large supermarket logo branded across it. 

("They used to be nicer, but I can't get them to get as big as they were before." 

"These are already pretty big tomatoes."

"They were bigger, trust me.") 

It comes out that Jisoo also owns a game room, so of course Jeonghan begs to be allowed inside. They play Mario Trolley for ages, and Jisoo even provides warm clothes when the weather turns a little chilly because he's an absolute angel. 

("Where'd you get this jumper, it's the softest thing I've ever touched." 

"Someone made it for me, actually!"

"Seriously? That's amazing."

"I know! I mean, they practised for a long time, but it's made so nicely." 

"Definitely.") 

They're having so much fun, but then Jisoo points to the clock on his mantelpiece and reminds Jeonghan he's supposed to be delivering pizzas right now. 

It feels like ages from when he got here, like hours and hours have gone by, but when Jeonghan leaves it's still light out and the pizza's still warm and the clock on Jisoo's mantelpiece says it's only been a little while, not a very long time at all, so Jeonghan figures it's all fine. 

He makes a mental note to bring Jisoo a pizza, no, three pizzas, as a thank-you. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"Jeonghan, you're an idiot, stop bringing home so many pizzas." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. 

Jeonghan has no idea what's at the end of that trail, so he says screw it, and turns his bike onto the track. 

A few seconds later it starts snowing buckets. Jeonghan curses and turns the bike around, but by the time he's back at the shop it seems to have stopped and-

And?

Jeonghan isn't quite sure.

It must not have been important. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Jeonghan, how'd you get tomatoes?" 

"I went to the supermarket and bought them, dumbass."

"Tomatoes aren't in season."

"But I had to have gotten them from the shops. It's not like I secretly grow tomatoes somewhere." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jeonghan hates delivering flyers. It's tedious and long and annoying and boring. 

The worst, though, is when someone sees you deliver them a flyer. 

"Wait!" calls the owner of the house, running down across his deck and down the long flight of stairs. 

Jeonghan doesn't even bother responding, just gets on his motorcycle and hightails it. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jeonghan googles extreme weather out of curiosity, and finds pictures of freak snowfall in the Sahara, blanketing the sand in white. Somehow, it feels like it's not quite what he was looking for, even if he has no idea what exactly he's trying to find. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. 

Jeonghan doesn't really remember a Smith Street; he vaguely recalls an apartment, perhaps, or maybe it was a cottage, or maybe a high-rise building, or a red-bricked house, or a house painted blue-grey. 

He isn't sure, so he turns into the trail on the hopes that maybe it's Smith Street. You never know. It'd probably be worse to have to double back. 

The strangely dark trail seems to go on and on and on and on, as if neverending. The longer it goes on, the more curious Jeonghan gets, so he's kind of disappointed when he reaches a non-descript house, seemingly copy-pasted from his street, complete with a cream garage and worn lamppost. 

Someone with a watering can edges out nervously from behind the house. 

"Hi, this isn't Smith Street, is it," Jeonghan says more than asks, already wheeling his bike around to leave. 

"Wait!" Jeonghan stops and turns around in his seat, raising an eyebrow at the stranger. The stranger probably can't see it through his helmet, but it's the thought that counts. 

"I... I made too much food. There're sandwiches and bread and jam and brownies for dessert. And tea too, if you want it," the stranger adds, tentatively. "I... um, I invited family over but something came up and they can't come anymore, so. It would be nice if you could help?" 

"Really?" Jeonghan hopes the skepticism in his voice carries through the helmet. 

"Yeah. You can have as much as you like."

"Are you sure your family isn't going to be coming?"

"I-" 

"There isn't any family, is there?" Jeonghan watches the stranger hesitate, then shake his head. 

"Are you going to leave now?" he asks, sounding vaguely forlorn. Jeonghan purses his lips, feeling a rare twinge of pity. 

"I bet you don't get many visitors here," he says, taking off his helmet, "so I'll help out, I guess. What's your name?" 

"I'm Jisoo," the stranger says, "nice to meet you." He sets the can down and steps forward, but stops when Jeonghan leans back automatically. 

Jisoo's aborted handshake hangs awkwardly in the air before he drops it. "I'm Jeonghan." 

"Nice to meet you, Jeonghan," Jisoo says again, fiddling with the ends of his lumpy sweater, "um. Do you want to come in?" 

"Just for a bit, then," says Jeonghan carefully, and follows Jisoo over the threshold into his house. He's about to make himself comfortable, but the searching, expectant look Jisoo keeps giving him has him on edge. He ends up lingering in the doorway, reluctant to go in. 

Eventually, Jisoo gets the hint and leaves him alone. 

Jeonghan watches Jisoo's back round the corner and disappear into the kitchen, feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic for a stranger he'd only met a minute ago. He feels vaguely sorry about the whole affair and kind of wishes he'd just left. 

Jisoo comes out of the kitchen with a plate piled high with sandwiches. At the sight, Jeonghan's gut starts churning unpleasantly. 

"You love them," says Jisoo hesitantly as he hands the plate to Jeonghan, "I mean, you'll love them, I think you will, they taste really good. Really good." He licks his lips and wrings his hands anxiously as he watches Jeonghan examine the plate. 

"Sorry, I'm a vegetarian," lies Jeonghan, suddenly unnerved, I thought they would be jam sandwiches," and puts down the plate slowly on the floor by the door. 

"Oh," says Jisoo, looking confused and a little crestfallen, "well, um, I can make you jam ones instead if you want?" He smooths down the front of his shirt and makes to get the plate, looking a little wounded when Jeonghan backs out of the house. 

"No thanks," says Jeonghan, hating the expression on Jisoo's face and hating knowing he was the one who put it there, "it's fine, I gotta get back to work anyway." 

Jisoo throws a nervous glance at his clock, biting his lip. "Well, if you must." Jeonghan makes a mental note to never go down this road again as he speeds away. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Did Mom teach you to make sandwiches?" asks his brother, plopping down on the couch next to him, stolen sandwich already halfway down his throat. 

"What? No." 

"Liar liar. No need to be embarrassed, Jeonghannie, these taste exactly like Mom's sandwiches. You did a good job." 

"I don't want to hear that from someone who's been inhaling them without my permission ever since he got here. Plus, it wasn't Mom who taught me." 

"Oh yeah? Who?" 

"...someone else." 

"Who?" 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. 

The sign told him "Next right for Smith Street", so in the next few seconds Jeonghan decides to lean right and steers the Pizza Shack motorcycle straight onto the dirt path, trying not to think about catching a rock the wrong way and damaging the bike or getting himself thrown off. 

But the path just keeps going and going and getting darker and darker. Jeonghan really wants to find out what's at the end, but he eventually turns back because it might take him way longer than he can afford getting there. 

He'll come have a look later, if he remembers. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

("See!" yells his brother, triumphantly, later, when their mother sneaks them her sandwiches past the nurses, so he can finally have some food that isn't awfully bland, "they taste exactly like this!" 

"But I didn't learn it from her," protests Jeonghan even as their parents shush him and remind him to be mindful of the other patients around them.) 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

One of the regulars graduates and moves away from their area. He gets one last pizza from them and orders a pickup so he can thank them all in person, because apparently they've been "a total lifesaver during finals week, oh god". 

"Soonyoung from Smith Street," he says, "thanks, guys, the only reason I didn't starve was Pizza Shack." 

Jeonghan feels a vague, numbing sense of sadness at his departure, as do many of his co-workers-- even though none of them can even remember him. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. Smith Street? The sign said "Next right for Smith Street", but Jeonghan doesn't think it's right. Doesn't think it's right, but gives in to his inner voice of doubt, and backtracks to turn into it. 

It's a good thing the heavily shadowed trail is short, otherwise Jeonghan might've turned back; there are five more orders waiting for him after these three and his boss is going to be mad if he gets back too late. 

He must've gone up the trail way too fast, because the person watering the tomatoes drops the can out of surprise, and it sloshes all over his pants. 

"Oh god," says Jeonghan, "I'm sorry. Sir," he adds, belatedly, just in case this is in fact Smith Street and this is a person who could potentially deny him a tip. 

Potential-Pizza-Buyer just sort of keeps staring at him.

"I'm sorry for scaring you and uh, getting your trousers wet. Um. Are you alright?" 

"Er. No. I mean, yes," says Potential-Pizza-Buyer, "uhm. Come inside. Please." and sort of wanders up the winding path, past his tomatoes, to wave at his impossibly sleek-looking house. Bemused, Jeonghan watches the front door slide open with barely a whoosh. Just as he's wondering whether or not actually going inside some weird dude's house is a good idea, the sky decides to open the floodgates right on top of him, soaking him completely in seconds. 

"Please," repeats Potential-Pizza-Buyer from the doorway, "you're getting wet." 

Jeonghan decides not to comment. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Potential-Pizza-Buyer gives Jeonghan a towel (which feels sort of insufficient for how wet he is, but he isn't about to complain), hangs his jacket in the laundry, and offers Jeonghan a seat on his couch that has way more buttons than any couch should have. 

It's probably a supercomputer or something, but Jeonghan doesn't want to make him mad, so he sits-- sort of tentatively and on the edge of the seat because this is probably the worst couch of all couches to drip on. 

Oh god, what if he makes it angry? 

"I'm Jisoo," says Potential-Pizza-Buyer, whose name was definitely not the same name as the one on the order for Smith Street, "um, would you like some tea?" 

Of all the things Jeonghan might've thought would be said, an offer of tea was not one of them. 

"Um. I'll just. Go make some tea, then. It's really cold. It's raining outside," says Jisoo, redundantly, when Jeonghan fails to formulate a response, and goes into his probably also incredibly fancy and slightly sentient kitchen. 

He comes back a few minutes later with a cup of tea, which he shoves into Jeonghan's hands with a mumbled "It's Earl Grey". Jeonghan sips at it carefully, unsure, tries to ignore how Jisoo keeps looking at him, unreadable and intense. 

He opens his mouth to ask why he's really been invited inside, but before he can Jisoo throws his arms around him in one big movement and whispers "Jeonghan, thank god," into the side of his neck. 

Jeonghan goes very, very still. 

Jisoo flinches (the tea sloshes dangerously against the side of Jeonghan's cup) and pulls away, damp with rainwater. His face is closed off as he backs away, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. 

"Um. Sorry. Sorry about that. Uh." Jeonghan watches Jisoo look anywhere but at him, bite his lower lip and deliberately turn his back. 

Jeonghan hears him take a shaky breath, watches the muscles in his arm tense as he squeezes his hands together and squares his shoulders and says, "I'm really sorry about that. You can leave if you want, I won't stop you. I- I won't stop you, but it's kind of- kind of raining though, so, maybe- maybe don't leave?" 

Jisoo's voice is very, very soft and cracks on the last word. 

Jeonghan is tempted to think he's nuts, but he'd known Jeonghan's name, and he'd made him his favourite tea. 

"Who are you?" asks Jeonghan, into the metre or so of space between them. Jisoo's shoulders jump, and he hunches in on himself. Jeonghan gets up and crosses the room to stand behind him, carefully puts a hand on his shoulder, feels the muscles scrunch up under his palm. Reflexively, Jisoo reaches for it with his other hand, but stops at the last second to snatch it back and press it, hard, against his breastbone. His breath hitches. 

Jeonghan ignores the way his stomach drops unpleasantly. "You know me. How?" 

"I, I-" sobs Jisoo, but he's crying so hard that he can't speak, so Jeonghan waits him out, tentatively rubbing his shaking shoulders, feeling somewhere vague and distant that it's familiar and right. 

Jisoo tries really, really hard to cry into his hands. Jeonghan watches the slow curve of his back as he curls in on himself, listens to the quiet, helpless noises he makes, muffled through the palms over his face. Jeonghan really does mean something to him, because Jisoo tries to burden him as little as possible, holds himself away at the length of Jeonghan's extended arm with as much control as he seems to be able to muster in his thin, skinny body, trembling with the strength of it almost as much as with the force of his sobs. 

The sight pulls hard at something in Jeonghan's chest, so he pulls gently at Jisoo, who resists for all of a second before he gives in and crumples quietly into his chest, hands coming up to twist into his shirt. Jeonghan tucks Jisoo's head under his chin, feeling his breath ghost across his collarbones, the slow roll of his shoulders as Jisoo heaves, dragging in breath after breath. The collar of Jeonghan's shirt digs into the back of his neck from Jisoo's blindly grasping hands, but he doesn't complain, just leans forward a little more and lets him press even closer. 

Outside, the pitter-patter of the rain is slowing. Jeonghan wonders if he's going to get fired. 

Eventually, Jisoo peels his face off Jeonghan's shirt and scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, avoiding Jeonghan's gaze. "Sorry," he mumbles, "um, yeah, sorry. I, uh. I'll go get some tea." He runs his hands distractedly through his hair, sidesteps Jeonghan and stumbles into the kitchen. The sound of the water running into the sink breaks occasionally as Jisoo sticks his hands under the faucet. Jeonghan wanders over to his abandoned cup and drinks the rest of it, wondering if Jisoo would cope with even the end of the world by making more tea. 

It seems to be taking an awfully long time. Jeonghan takes the opportunity to check on his jacket and gloves, which unfortunately seem to be just as wet as they were when he first arrived. He's kind of surprised Jisoo doesn't have some sort of futuristic dryer that will magically suck all the water out of the leather instantly or some other incredible invention. At this rate, he really isn't going to make it back on time. Frowning, he slips his phone out and turns on the screen to check his clock. 

"Jeong- don't!" Jeonghan looks up, startled, as Jisoo rushes in and slaps Jeonghan's phone out of his hand with too much prejudice for someone who possibly owned a sentient couch. The phone skids across the floor, bangs against the bottom of the washing machine, and comes to a rest, facedown. 

"I was just checking the time," says Jeonghan, wondering if maybe Jisoo was crazy after all. 

"You can't! You- you can't look at it. Please. Don't look at it." Water drips off the ends of his hair. Jisoo's eyes are red around the edges from crying. 

"Why not?" 

"You just can't." 

"You're not making any sense," says Jeonghan, slowly backing away from him and towards the phone, aware somehow that this is significant. 

To his surprise, Jisoo closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. "I'll tell you. Whatever you want to know. Just don't look at the time." 

"The time?"

Jisoo sighs, turning away a little. "This. Here. Where we are. It's not where you were. Not really. It's somewhere else, I don't really know where, just that it's somewhere else. 

"Sometimes it's summer, sometimes it's spring, sometimes the garden is in autumn but the backyard is in winter, and sometimes it's been summer for so long I don't remember what it's like to have other seasons. It's why you can spend ten hours here but only ten minutes pass when you get back, why you can spend one minute here and be seventeen minutes earlier when you return. And if you look at the real time while you're here, it messes with something and makes this place unhappy. 

"You can never remember being here, either. The timeline inside your head gets messed up because all the seasons are all wrong and everything is wrong and nothing is as it should be so your brain sort of just ignores the memories because they're impossible. Once you leave, you forget everything about this place, and probably bits of arriving and leaving too." 

"The guy from Smith Street," murmurs Jeonghan. Jisoo probably has no idea who he's talking about, but he hears the address and nods. 

"Yeah. Smith Street, that's what everyone who comes here asks about. The sign down the road that got moved by someone a few years back, it leads everyone here. Until it didn't, I mean." Jisoo runs his hands down his clothes and stares unseeingly out the window. 

"I thought you'd died," says Jisoo, voice cracking slightly, still turned away, "when your co-worker mentioned the crash and how they were investigating Pizza Shack due to your bike literally just coming apart under you while you were on the road, I thought you'd gone and died again, when you didn't turn up for ages and then that blond kid did and I asked him about you and he said he didn't know who you were, and then nobody came for a very long time, I thought you'd died, I've thought you were dead for ages and ages, I even made you a grave-" 

Jeonghan steps forward, wraps Jisoo in his arms, and rocks him, stunned. Jisoo sniffs and buries his nose into Jeonghan's collar. 

"Jun was my replacement while I was hospital," Jeonghan says, softly, "then the boss decided to sign him on permanently, it's fine, I'm here, I'm alive. And- the guy, who lived on Smith Street, he moved. It's okay, it's okay." Jisoo nods into the crook of his neck, silent. 

Behind them, the jacket continues to drip rhythmically onto the ceramic tiles. 

Then, because he's an asshole, Jeonghan says, "Did you say, killed again? And why can't you just leave? How did you come here?" 

Jisoo tenses up against Jeonghan again for a second, before releasing an enormous breath, his entire body rising and falling with it. 

"What the hell, you know everything anyway," he mumbles, "doesn't matter." He turns around a little in Jeonghan's arms, and looks him in the eye.

"This, here. Everything. It was yours first."

Jeonghan feels like he's been punched in the gut. 

"Mine?" he gasps, but even as he's saying it, he knows it's true, somewhere, somewhere deep and blurry and foggy and out of reach. 

"Yours. I," says Jisoo, and he twists his mouth unhappily, pauses. "I don't blame you. At all," he says, finally.

Jeonghan can only blink at him, mute. 

"You tried to stop me. I tried to do the same thing, you know," Jisoo says, laughing a little, rueful, "Time passes here weirdly so you never feel much of a sense of urgency to be doing what you should be. But.

" I went to check the time on my phone. You tried to stop me. I went to look, and you covered the screen with your hand. "Don't look," you said, "Jisoo, the time is right there," and you pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece. 

"I looked at it, but it looked like hours and hours had passed. Which, I mean, they had, but I didn't know they could pass in the other direction as well. So I said "oh no! I have to get back! My boss is going to be so mad!" and, thoughtlessly, I yanked the phone out of your hand and looked for missed calls. 

"And then you vanished, in a flare-up of light. You were screaming. I think it hurt. It sounded a lot like it hurt. You sounded like you were dying. 

"But when I could see again, you were gone. I didn't know where you went, because you never said anything about any of this, I just came and then I looked at the time and then you were gone. Over time, I started remembering more about us, and about being here before. I don't know if it's being here and being reminded or because I've gotten used to living in the wrong time, but everything started coming back. You never explained what you knew about here. You never told me. 

"But then weeks or months or days later you turned up here, asking for Smith Street. You had my old job as a Pizza Shack pizza deliverer. I figured it out, then. The person who comes and looks at the time gets replaced with the person already here." 

"My mother is really your mother," murmurs Jeonghan, dazed, "and my brother, your brother. The tea in the cupboard was your tea." 

"Yes," agrees Jisoo softly, "and my tomatoes are really your tomatoes. You loved them so much. I tried to tend to them, after, but they were never the same. They started dying after you left. 

"And," he swallows, audibly, "the bike too. I'm no mechanic. It was just the same bike. I never got it serviced, even after all those times that bolt fell out. 

"The accident wasn't your fault," says Jeonghan, quietly. Jisoo just shakes his head, doesn't meet his eyes. 

"When I saw you that day, coming into the driveway, I was so grateful. I was so relieved. I thought you'd died because of me. I thought I'd killed you, the person who showed me gardening and knitting and a million other wonderful things in all the time we spent together in this house. I don't know exactly how long it was, but I adored you. I adore you. I'm so glad you're alive."

He wipes his nose on his sleeve, and leans against Jeonghan's shoulder, exhausted, familiar, fond. "I tried looking for you, but I quickly found out that the house wouldn't let me leave. I'd walk, but then I'd see something in the distance and it'd be the back of the house. I'd turn in another direction and keep going, but I always ended up back at the house. Always this house, even though it doesn't always look the same. 

"So then I started inviting you in. Well, began trying," says Jisoo, rueful, "the first time was a disaster, oh god, I offered you food like a creep and just kept staring at you the whole time because you were alive and then you walked out on me because you're a sensible person and knew something was up. I tried and failed the next time too, but I eventually got the hang of it, of pretending not to know you and meeting you over and over again for the first time. I don't know how you did it. It was so hard." 

He sighs. Jeonghan runs a tentative hand through Jisoo's wet hair, gently, the movement feeling old and practised. 

"I also can't tell you how you got here when you did, if you were even the first person to come here, if all this even began with you. And I can't leave without trapping someone else here." Jisoo pushes his face into Jeonghan's shoulder, closing his eyes. "So I'll just stay here. It's okay." 

Jeonghan doesn't really know what to say. What do you say to something like that? 

"I missed you so much, Jeonghan," Jisoo confesses, quietly, into Jeonghan's collarbones, "so so so so so much. I can't believe I ever forgot you, about being here with you, about being here before. How much fun we had. All the things we did together. You'd invite me in anew every time." Jisoo sighs, and rubs at his eyes again. 

"What was I... like?" asks Jeonghan, hesitantly. 

Jisoo laughs. "That's a very you question to ask. You're pretty much the same as you were then," he says, smiling. 

"Oh." 

"You were a little weird at first, probably because you'd just been thrust into my life, with all the choices that I'd made, but you've always been very much yourself." 

"Oh," says Jeonghan again, feeling inexplicably relieved. 

"You used to know magic, though."

"Oh- wait, what?" 

"Magic," says Jisoo, eyes still puffy but twinkling," you know, whatever makes the house change, messes up time and space. Magic. Or something sufficiently advanced that makes it look like magic to me, I have no idea." 

"Magic," says Jeonghan, " and you didn't think to mention this to me sooner?" Jisoo grins, a little sheepishly. 

"Well, I looked through all your weird magic journals and stuff, but they're in some bizarre language that I don't understand. I'm not sure if I'm even seeing it properly, because it kind of moves? And you've probably forgotten it, so I didn't think mentioning it would be a good idea." 

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"But you never know," Jeonghan says, thoughtfully. 

"True," concedes Jisoo.

They look at each other, in the ensuing silence. 

"What happens now?" asks Jisoo, softly, looking up at Jeonghan. His eyes are pink around the edges, and crusted a little with dried tears. Jeonghan watches him yawn, swells full with an affection for him he didn't know he'd had. 

"Well. I'm not leaving." 

Jisoo opens his mouth to say something, but Jeonghan just keeps going, "If I leave I'll just forget again, right?" 

"Mmhm." 

"And the longer you stayed here, the more you remembered, yeah? I'd like to see if that happens for me too. And if time moves differently here, I can always go back." 

"Oh." 

"Yep." Jeonghan resists the urge to look at his phone, looks outside for an estimate of time instead. "Okay, so, tomorrow then?" 

"Tomorrow?"

"Sleep now. You look exhausted, and I'm definitely tired."

Jisoo shakes his head, but he's smiling. "So very much like the Jeonghan I first knew. Okay then, tomorrow."

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Jeonghan wakes up with the weight of Jisoo's head on his shoulder and thinks the sensation oddly familiar. 

Or perhaps not oddly, if Jisoo is to be believed. Jeonghan traces the bridge of Jisoo's nose with his eyes, the sweep of his bangs. It feels easy and ordinary, just like another regular day. 

Jisoo seems to think so too. He doesn't wake when Jeonghan jostles him, just mumbles something incoherent and pushes at Jeonghan's face to get him to shut up so he can go back to sleep. 

Jeonghan responds by pulling his shoulder out from underneath his cheek, letting Jisoo's head make a satisfying thwack into the pillow as he blinks into awareness. 

"Awake?"

"You used to do that all the time too," says Jisoo, trying not to smile. 

"Whatever," grumbles Jeonghan, "up, up, up!" but he's hiding a smile too. 

The kitchen has a gas stove today, and creaky floorboards. Jeonghan watches Jisoo take a gas lighter, then various ingredients, items, and kitchenware out of the same cupboard, closing the door each time and reopening it for something new. Amused, Jisoo watches Jeonghan experimentally open and close the cupboard to reveal various other miscellaneous home items before trying it out with the other ones around them. 

"Hmm," he says, taking a bite out of what looks like an egg tart, "this is pretty great." Jisoo rolls his eyes and puts it back, scolds "I'm making pancakes, just be patient, will you?" but doesn't stop smiling. 

"Why don't you just get pancakes from the magical cupboard of magic? Is it because you think it tastes better?" 

"It does taste better," insists Jisoo, "now shoo, go play in the library or something." 

"Library?" 

"Second from the left down the hall," he says, "there's an old projector room next to it too if you're interested." 

He looks up from what he's doing to Jeonghan's surprised face. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I've seen this house before, or at least one really similar," he explains. 

"...how long have you been here?"

Jisoo shrugs uncomfortably. "A while. I'm not quite sure." Jeonghan looks at him for a second more, then leaves him to it. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jeonghan doesn't go straight to the library. Instead, he wanders around the house a little. He opens all the books he finds laying around haphazardly with a million little stickynotes in each. Most of them are in English, but some of them are in some kind of pattern that hurts his head to read. Like an optical illusion, the moment he thinks he's got it down, it shifts again, and he isn't sure if what he thought he saw was ever there. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Jisoo goes to call Jeonghan for breakfast, he finds him napping on the loveseat near the big windows, sunlight streaming in. 

It's something he hasn't seen in a very long time. Jisoo takes a second to simply look at him, heart clenching in both fondness and sorrow, before gently shaking him awake. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

It seems to be a sunny day. They eat at the small wooden table in the kitchen, just barely big enough to fit both of them, then Jisoo takes Jeonghan out to see his (their?) tomatoes. Jisoo patiently teaches Jeonghan how to care for them; he gives him the watering can and helps Jeonghan learn what he once taught. It starts coming back halfway through, and Jeonghan squints at Jisoo the rest of the time he's explaining about soil moisture levels because it feels almost like déjà vu. 

It begins to snow in the back, so Jeonghan goes to stand on what seems to be the boundary so he can watch the ice come down. Jisoo follows, but he doesn't seem to be paying very much attention, so Jeonghan grabs a handful and shoves it down his shirt in order to make him stop staring at the small collection of rocks off to the side with a candle and paper flowers on top. Jisoo gasps, affronted, and retaliates, chasing Jeonghan into the snow, which is perfectly fine even if they both end up having to bundle up in new shirts and misshapen jumpers after as their wet things dry. Jisoo makes them both tea, and they sit in front of the large windows in the living room to drink it and talk. Jeonghan tells him what's happened since the vague, fuzzy, indistinct section of his memories. It feels a little like telling someone about their life instead of his own. Jisoo asks after his mother, brother, friends, extended family, and Jeonghan gives him as many details as he can possibly remember. 

Later that afternoon, Jisoo takes Jeonghan to a locked bedroom at the end of the hall. Jeonghan thinks he's going to produce the key from his pocket, but Jisoo just presses his thumb onto the keyhole, and the door unlocks with an audible click. 

He laughs at the face Jeonghan makes. 

He opens the large chest at the end of the bed (with another press of his thumb, smirking a little at Jeonghan all the while) and lifts out a very normal, 8mm feint ruled 400 page A4 exercise book. 

"This is incredibly underwhelming," mutters Jeonghan as he moves to take the book. 

Jisoo holds it away from him slightly and looks at him. "Jeonghan." 

"What?" 

"No matter what happens. It's okay, whatever happens. If you remember everything, or if you remember nothing, it's alright." 

"Yes, yes, whatever," says Jeonghan impatiently, making grabbing motions with his hands, "gimme, gimme." 

Jisoo doesn't look very happy, but he relents and hands it to him anyway. Jeonghan takes the book.

There is a very tense second where nothing happens. 

Jisoo opens his mouth to say something more, but then Jeonghan opens the cover and suddenly it's like there's a Jeonghan-shaped blind spot exactly where he was, and Jisoo's eyes feel like they're burning up. 

"Jeonghan!" shouts Jisoo, feeling for him blindly, "Jeonghan, are you okay? Jeonghan!" He can hear Jeonghan cry out, somewhere far away. 

Then the sound is right by him, and he grabs Jeonghan by the upper arm as he stumbles and sits down very hard on the floor, dragging Jisoo with him. 

"Well," he says.

Jisoo crouches by him, concerned. 

Jeonghan's eyes are a little bloodshot, and he's screwing his face up in that particular way that means he's got a headache, wincing. He blinks and his expression clears. 

"Hmmm." 

Beside him, Jisoo bites his lip and bobs, anxious. Jeonghan is tempted to let him sweat a little more, but the newfound knowledge is pushing against the insides of his head, and he kind of really wants to try it out. 

"Jisoo," he sings, "praise me, I'm the smartest." 

Jisoo kind of looks relieved and exasperated all at once. "You're okay, thank god. Stop worrying me for nothing." 

"Jisoo, tell me I'm smart." 

"Just get on with it, will you?" 

"Jisoooooooooo." 

"Alright, alright," says Jisoo, rolling his eyes, "you're the smartest, the best, the greatest. You've solved it, haven't you? Stop dragging this out." 

Jeonghan grins. "You really know me too well." Then, wider, "Yeah. You're right. I've got it." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

It turns out that Jeonghan had encoded a spell for everyone with magical potential ("that's what you could call it, I guess") to get the contents of his journal instantly uploaded into their head once they opened it ("and that, dear Jisoo, means that you have absolutely zero aptitude for magic") so they wouldn't have to figure out all the quirks and habits of the tiny pocket dimension they were stuck in over the course of years and years like he had, and could begin working on a way to get out as early as possible. 

Surprisingly, the solution was relatively simple. 

"I couldn't get out of here," explains Jeonghan as he grabs yet another exercise book from the pile and scribbles furiously, "because I thought that someone else coming in and getting stuck would cause this place to kill me to make room. I thought I saw my predecessor die, but really, she just replaced me on the outside. But now that we know swapping doesn't kill you, we're good to go." He finishes with a flourish, and smiles up at Jisoo, all sunny and content. 

"Here's the plan. I take the book and go outside. I open the book and I'll remember everything. I'll do some magic stuff to fix the time and space outside, with a trigger so you can activate it. I'll come back, knowing what I'm doing, with the book and everything. You'll be holding instructions for activation. I copy what you know into another book. 

"I'll look at the time. That should swap you swap back into your life. Once you activate the magic, this ends. I'll put what you know now back inside your head, and we're golden." 

Jisoo hesitates. "Will- are you really okay with that? You say it's my life, but everything is sort of yours, too." 

Jeonghan shrugs, looks at him a little too nonchalantly. "It was your life first. I'll just have to make friends with them again. It's your job to introduce me." 

Jisoo doesn't look too convinced, but he nods anyway, then asks, "What if the instructions don't come with me?"

Jeonghan had hoped he wouldn't notice. He says, carefully, "If the paper doesn't go with you, I just need to wait for you to come again." 

"That's a lot of faith," Jisoo says softly, "we don't really need to swap, just go out there and do your magic thing without waiting for me." 

Jeonghan shakes his head. "I have a lot of faith. In you, in Smith Street, in Pizza Shack, whatever. You'll come back here. I know it. You will. I'll wait however long it takes for you to get back to me." 

"I will definitely come back to you," says Jisoo, refusing to doubt, because if Jeonghan believes, so does Jisoo. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"Of course," replied Jeonghan, refusing to doubt, because if Jisoo believes, so does Jeonghan. 

He thinks about this as he sits with one of the library's many, many, many books on the couch-- which had turned out to be not so sentient after all, unlike the shower-- lazily watching the clouds drift by on a hot, hot summer's day. 

He doesn't know how long it's been, but he's fine with waiting.

If Jisoo takes too long, he'll just force him to make sandwiches or something to make up for it. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

There's a dirt bike trail leading off into the space between the trees at the end of the bridge. There's a sign that says "Next right for Smith Street". 

There's a motorcycle with the Pizza Shack logo branded across it, and it's coming into Jeonghan's driveway. 

He runs out, grabs the perpetually-filled watering can, and makes it looks like he's in the middle of watering his big, ripe tomatoes. 

The bike comes to a stop in front of him, and its rider removes his helmet. "I don't suppose this is Smith Street?" Jisoo asks.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all i seriously contemplated leaving it ambiguous


End file.
